Hot Water
by TurkFox
Summary: Jim has an idea. With Sherlock distracted, now is the perfect time.
1. Hot Water

((See my profile for the picture this was inspired by))

Jim rapped the door with his knuckles three times, then waited patiently for a response. He wasn't waiting long – Mrs Hudson appeared moments later and opened the door for him.

"Oh, hello dear. Are you here to see Sherlock? I'm afraid he's gone out," she told him.

"It's okay, he just called me to say he'd be late and that I should go in and wait for him," Jim replied in his best English accent, fidgeting shyly with his watch.

"Ah, I see – well, you'd better go up then," she replied, and Jim walked passed her and started to climb up the stairs.

He couldn't help smiling as he entered the flat and let the door click shut behind him. This was far, far too easy. He made sure to walk slowly and softly along the hallway - it wouldn't do to make too much noise and attract attention to himself, he was only supposed to be waiting for a friend. It always amazed him just how well the Jim-from-IT disguise worked. Maybe people just couldn't say no to a shy, unassuming geek, or maybe they were just too trusting of strangers. Whichever it was, "Mr Space Invaders pyjamas" was the best disguise he'd ever had.

He stopped just inside the doorway to look around, taking in his surroundings. _'Messy… I like it.'_ He moved further into the room and turned round, at which point he spotted the experiments littering the kitchen. _'Just like I imagined…' _After turning his nose up at one or two of the more unpleasant samples, he walked through to the bathroom and took off his rucksack.

The bath, he noted, was slightly longer than average. This pleased him, as there was nothing worse than not being comfortable in the bath. He put the plug in and turned on the hot water, before beginning to undress. Peeling off the skintight grey t-shirt he'd chosen specifically for his little game with Sherlock, he let it fall to the floor beside him. _'Playing Jim from IT.' _Next came his shoes and socks, followed by his trousers. _'Playing gay…'_ Ah yes, the underwear. Jim had known that would get Sherlock's attention. He could feel himself becoming aroused at the thought of Sherlock watching him so closely. Yes, the underwear could stay on.

He discarded his watch, then opened his bag, putting the contents out on the counter. Black socks, £5, Burton. _'Functional,' _he thought as pulled them on. White shirt, £25, Topman. _'Comfortable.' _He buttoned it up quickly, leaving the top two buttons unfastened and the collar sticking up. Trousers, £35, H&M. _'Reliable,'_ he mused as he pulled them up and tucked his shirt in. He'd bought them several years ago and they were still in great condition. Jim moved to close the door – but not lock it – then picked up the black tie he'd left on the counter. As he tied it, he grinned, then he checked his appearance in the mirror above the sink. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were pink; his hair was sticking up slightly and his collar was exactly where he'd left it. _'Fuck… even I'd do me…'_ he thought with a smirk, then he turned his attention to the bath.

With the tap off, Jim climbed in and lay down, settling himself to one end with his head leaning back onto the edge. He was uncomfortably hard now, turned on by his preparations and the feeling of the hot water against his skin. He closed his eyes and took a moment to relax, though none of the tension had a chance to escape as his thoughts turned to Sherlock once again. The man was perfection.

_Tall, slim but strong, with striking blue eyes and a mouth that could only have looked better with Jim's cock in it._

He reached a hand down inside his trousers and began to touch himself through the soft fabric of the expensive underwear.

_That long, beautiful, pale neck that really needed Jim's teeth sinking into it to make it look complete._

He unbuttoned the trousers and pulled down the zip to give himself more space.

_Those long, graceful legs leading up to that perfectly rounded arse which Jim so desperately wanted to bury himself in._

He pulled the underwear down and began to stroke himself steadily and firmly, moaning softly as he did so.

_It would start slowly at first, moving in and out of the detective on all fours in front of him just fast enough to tease._

He kept a steady pace, knowing how close he'd been before he even began.

_Sherlock would be reluctant at first, almost unwilling, but soon he'd start to push back against Jim, meeting each movement._

Jim closed his eyes again and leaned his head back further, moaning a little louder this time.

_He would speed up and thrust harder, letting Sherlock change the angle of his hips until he was groaning and begging for Jim go harder, faster, more._

He was speeding up, the image in his head so vivid that he could barely control himself. He'd imagined this before, the fantasy, but he'd never tried it out in such an… interesting situation. The hot water and the suit made it all so much better.

_He'd move harder, until Sherlock practically screaming for more, until he begged for Jim to touch him and of course, Jim would oblige._

Breathing raggedly as his movements became harder and faster, Jim's hand moved somewhat erratically.

_He'd keep going like this, hot and messy, until Sherlock came and clenched tightly around him, and then…_

Tightening his grip, it took only a few more strokes before Jim came hard, clinging to the edge of the bath with his free hand and arching his back as he moaned Sherlock's name loudly.

It took some time for him to get his breath back, during which time he pulled the plug out with his toes. It was only when he shivered slightly that he realised how much of the water had drained away. Reluctantly, he got to his feet as he fastened up his trousers again, then he climbed out of the bath. It took only a moment to put everything back into his bag, then he was out of the room, down the stairs and out the front door into the street.

The water would dry before Sherlock got back – Jim had made sure he'd be busy for a while. Jim, on the other hand, was in central London in a cheap suit, soaked to the skin, his face still flushed with arousal. With another smirk, he started to walk towards home, but he stopped to cast one glance back at the flat.

One day, he hoped, he wouldn't need to imagine fucking Sherlock Holmes. For now, he could just find new, exciting and dangerous ways to pretend.

The bath thing had definitely been his favourite so far, he'd have to try that one again.

After all, he'd always liked hot water.


	2. Pyjamas

**I've planned up to chapter five now - it's amazing the amount of filthy things you can imagine for Jim to do! Inspired by the pyjama scene in Design For Living (the play Andrew Scott [Jim] is currently in).**

**The changes to Jim's physique match the continuing changes of the actor, I'm not just trying to make weird changes to Jim! Andrew has clearly been working out, particularly his arms :P**

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Simply knocking and being let in wasn't really going to be an option this time. No doubt Mrs Hudson would have informed Sherlock of the visitor, whose description would be instantly recognisable. Sherlock wasn't stupid, he would have warned Mrs Hudson against opening the door if she saw Jim through the peephole, so he needed an alternative. Luckily, Jim was quite resourceful in this area - he waited until he was sure the building was empty, then picked the single lock. '_Really, Sherlock. So careless.' _

He was upstairs again in no time at all, this time not stopping to browse the experiments in the kitchen. Sherlock's bedroom door opened with a gentle push and Jim stepped inside, grinning to himself as he saw the mess in front of him. He didn't have a plan this time, particularly, just that he wanted to use Sherlock's room in some way. His eyes scanned the room for ideas, but nothing really jumped out at him straight away. Jim pulled the wardrobe doors open, but it was just full of the usual suits and shirts their owner wore, along with what he presumed were disguises of some sort.

The chest of drawers, however, held more promise. Inside the top drawer were several sets of pyjamas; the tops neatly folded on one side and the bottoms shoved in messily on the other side. Jim giggled. _'He probably does what I do, just wears a t-shirt on the top.'_ Suddenly, a plan had formed. _'I could wear Sherlock's pyjamas!' _He was out of his jacket and shoes quickly, shortly followed by his t-shirt and trousers. He just had ordinary underwear on today, so he felt no great desire to keep it on for this. Socks and watch followed, then he was completely naked apart from the necklace he wore, the plain brown cord with a platinum friendship ring on it. _'Seb will be so jealous.'_

Pulling on the trousers of the light blue pyjamas with the stripes, he couldn't help being amused at how they hung right to the floor. Jim was a good five or so inches shorter than Sherlock, so it was hardly a surprise that his feet were covered, but it was funny all the same. The waist was pretty snug - it may have been a good fit for him several weeks before, but with the extra muscle on his frame he was pushing it trying to wear Sherlock's clothes. He unbuttoned the top and slipped it on, but it wasn't easy. _'Perhaps I shouldn't lift any weights or do any more push-ups.' _His arms were stronger, more defined. _'Better for restraining people...'_ he thought with a smirk. Once the buttons were all done up, he approached the full-length, free-standing mirror on the other side of the room. He straightened his collar as best he could - the sleeves were hanging down over his fingers, so it was a struggle to keep them up out of the way.

Another giggled escaped as Jim took in his appearance. He looked quite childlike, but the look in his eyes was anything but innocent. He gaze dropped slowly down his body in the mirror until it reached his groin. His eyes lit up further still and he lowered his hand, starting to touch himself through the fabric of the pyjamas. His eyes were fixed on his hand, each movement as slow and drawn out as he could make it. He chewed on his lower lip and exhaled slowly, pacing himself. Just for a second, he lost concentration and caught sight of the unmade bed behind him in the reflection.

Jim stopped what he was doing and crossed to the bed, where he crawled up onto it and settled near the top. Picking up one of the pillows, he inhaled deeply, and a smell he recognised as Sherlock flooded his senses. He laid the pillow lengthwise, the way a person would lie on the bed, then straddled it. He shifted his weight slightly so he could lean on his hands, then started to grind against the pillow beneath him. With a soft moan, he found a good angle and decided to stick with it.

_'Imagine this were Sherlock beneath me, hard and desperate, so turned on by the sight of me in his pyjamas.'_

Jim let one arm take his weight as he brought the other hand up across his thigh to the little bit of exposed skin on his abdomen.

_'He wouldn't be able to keep his hands off me, he'd need this so badly.'_

His hand moved up across his ribs, to the nipple he'd recently had pierced, and squeezed gently. He moaned again, louder this time, as he continued to toy with the small steel ring.

_'I bet he'd love this. He'd want to play with it, and I'd let him, but I'd make him be so careful that he'd get frustrated.'_

Jim pulled on the the ring a little harder than he should have and _groaned_, pleasure and pain creating a fantastic mix.

_'He'd love that too, he'd pull me harder against him every time.'_

The friction of the pyjamas was rather electric and Jim rutted shamelessly against the pillow, but it wasn't enough and he was _so close_. Reaching down, he slipped his hand past his waistband and took a firm grip of his cock, making short, quick movements.

_'The sounds he'd make would be delicious. Those low moans, the vibration...'_

Jim pushed forward into his hand and cried out Sherlock's name as he came, feeling the warm liquid trickling through his finger and soaking through the fabric. He collapsed forwards, gasping slightly, and rested his head on the pillow. He laid there for a few minutes, contented and sticky, until he could be bothered to move. He showered and changed, then he was gone.

The only clue he left behind was the washing machine, currently beginning a cycle. When Sherlock returned and opened it, he could puzzle over the presence of a pyjama top he could be certain he hadn't worn recently. Maybe he'd even think of Jim as he thought of the possibilities. Yes, Jim would like that very much.


End file.
